


weed crumbles into glitter

by minseokiki



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, idk that’s it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:33:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minseokiki/pseuds/minseokiki
Summary: Yixing takes a long puff and then leans in and, yeah, of course the other finds it odd, but his first instinct is to let his own eyes flutter shut prettily and wait for what’s to come.The hand that’s now on his chin pulls a little, making him open his mouth and he complies obediently. A nose bumps against his own and, for a moment, Junmyeon could bet all of his parents’ small fortune that Yixing was about to kiss him — and, strangely enough, he was about to let him — but right before their lips can meet, the latter blows the smoke right through the former’s ones.Or rich kid Junmyeon wants to buy weed and Yixing is kind enough to sell him some overpriced goods. Shotgunning ensues.





	weed crumbles into glitter

**Author's Note:**

> hello! un-beta’d so there’s prob a lot of mistakes.. I apologize in advance. also this is literally just a super short one-shot based on my own prompt lol so anyways! this is my 1st time ever having the guts to actually post something so :-) hope you like it!!!

The sky is a lilac-y tone of blue that afternoon, tinted with both neon and baby pink. It’s barely 5pm, but the moon is already visible, although you must squint a little to be able to make out its white edges against the mix of pastel colors.

Not only does Junmyeon notice that, but he also tries cataloguing the constellations that are starting to sprinkle the watercolor-like pattern, but fails as his knowledge is limited and the faint stars seem to be too shy to fully come out just yet. 

He has too much time on his hands as he waits for the mysterious man, reason as to why he’s been analyzing the sky for the past 20 minutes or so. He leans back on the wall and watches the clouds move painfully slow, fidgeting, untucking and re-tucking his button-up nervously, wondering if anyone is even showing up as he tidies his neatly pressed blazer once more. And if he even wants anyone to show up.

And that’s precisely when someone does decide to show up, startling a distracted Junmyeon by touching his shoulder gently.

The man just arrived, and Junmyeon already managed to make a fool out of himself, jumping like a scaredy cat at the small contact. And now he knows for a fact that he’s blushing, cheeks feeling warm under both the sunlight and the other’s inquiring gaze.

“Sorry? I thought you were expecting me.”

Yixing is his name, he vaguely remembers his friend Baekhyun mentioning it. “He has the best kush”, he’d said, although Junmyeon doubts he’ll even notice any difference, since he has no standards to compare it to as he never tried bad kush before. Or any kush, for that matter.

“No. I mean, yeah, I am. I was.” Now he’s stuttering. A college man, blushing and stuttering like a school girl. He clears his throat before continuing. “I just got distracted, is all.”

“Really?” Yixing seems amused, the smallest of smiles tugging at one corner of his mouth, which only disconcerts the other even more. “What did you want from me?”

Although he has kind eyes and is but a few inches taller than him, Junmyeon reckons the man is really intimidating. His heavy eyelids make him look both disinterested and condescending at the same time. The other is pretty sure they shared one or two classes in the past, and he looked just as intimidating back then.

Ever-so-sure-of-himself Junmyeon suddenly feels inadequate, having the stupid urge to cover himself, as if the other could see right through all the Gucci layers he’s wearing from head to toes.

“A friend told me you sell weed?”

Yixing hums, neither agreeing nor denying it. After the silence stretches out for a few seconds too long, it’s pretty clear that that’s the closest to a response he’ll get to that pseudo question.

“Can I get some?”

“You want to get some?” The barely noticeable smirk persists, making the slightly smaller boy feel a lot smaller.

“Some weed. Yeah, I’d like to get some weed, please.”

Yixing’s smile grows wider, a soft dimple peeking through his hard features, and Junmyeon can feel the tension on his own shoulders dissipate a bit. He uncrosses the arms he doesn’t even remember crossing in the first place.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” The frown on the smaller boy’s forehead deepens. As he made his way to the alley near their college’s parking lot earlier today, he wasn’t sure what to expect — maybe some form of resistance or for the other to ask him for a password — but a simple “okay” wasn’t it.

“Well, do you really want it?”

“Yeah.” _Too eager. Play it cool._ “I mean, sure, yeah.”

“Okay.” He still looks amused and although it feels a little humiliating, Junmyeon sort of wants that dimple to never leave the man’s face. “30 each blunt. I’m guessing you don’t know how to roll one.”

It’s not supposed to sound mean, but it tints the other boy’s pale cheeks with peachy pink anyway.

“I don’t. Okay, do I pay now?”

“Really?” Yixing raises an eyebrow questioningly; almost teasingly. It’s confusing, really, but almost everything about him is, so far. “No, just ask Baekhyun for my address and you can come over with the cash tomorrow. Is that okay for you?”

“Yeah.”

“How many do you want?”

“Um, three.”

 

*

 

Junmyeon’s stomach is still churning with anxiety as he waits by the door, but at the same time his fingertips are buzzing with excitement. For some reason, he can’t wait to see the man again.

He knocks once more, biting at his bottom lip and thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. It was a terrible idea, actually. _It’s 4 in the morning, for God’s sake._ Yixing is probably sleeping.

The door whines open to reveal a very awake, extremely shirtless Yixing.

“Junmyeon?” He frowns, still holding the doorknob. “It’s 4am, man. What are you doing here?”

What _is_ he doing here? He tries hard to concentrate on forming an answer, but a nicely toned torso can be really distracting, specially when its end is barely covered in sweats that sit low on small hips. Junmyeon wouldn’t say he finds it particularly attractive, but he can definitely appreciate a good result of a nice workout routine. 

“I- um.” He tries to come up with some sort of excuse as he looks down to his own Balenciaga shoes right next to Yixing’s bare feet, but it’s useless. The boy himself has no idea what brought him here this late in the morning. He was at a party just a few moments earlier and now he’s at a stranger’s door for no apparent reason. “Sorry, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Come in.”

That makes Junmyeon look back up, finding the other’s ever so calm eyes, not giving away a single thing about what he might be thinking. But when the latter turns around, he follows him inside anyway.

The visitor stands awkwardly for a moment at the entrance of what seems to be the other’s room as he fumbles with a bag, probably looking for the weed.

“Come in, man. Sit down wherever, I still need to roll your stuff.”

And he does so, sitting by the edge of the bed. The room is neater than Junmyeon thought it would be, since the man apparently lives by himself. There’s a couple of socks on the floor, but it’s nothing compared to his own room when the family’s maid can’t come around for a week or so for some reason.

Junmyeon watches him for a moment. The way his rough looking hands work with precision on the small portions of dried plants is sort of hypnotizing. The former’s eyes follow each movement closely as the man rubs his palms together, even smaller pieces falling from in between them. The quiet noises it makes are very pleasing as well, and Junmyeon can catch each of them because everything else in the room is completely silent.

“You never smoked before, right?” Yixing’s low voice startles him a little, but he manages not to jump this time.

“Um, I tried a cigarette once.”

“How’d you like it?” An eyebrow is raised in surprise, but his eyes keep trained on the rolling paper in front of him.

“I didn’t, but a lot of my friends hate them and smoke weed regularly.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t worry, you should be fine.”

Yixing finishes twisting one of the tips tightly and offers the joint to Junmyeon, who takes it with both hands, marveling at how light it feels and how surprisingly pretty it looks — nothing like the ones Chanyeol rolls up in what he likes to call an “experimental way”. Then, the former joins him on the mattress and shows him a yellow lighter.

“What?”

“Well? Don’t you wanna try it now to see how you like it before spending almost 100$ on 3 of them?”

If Junmyeon’s hands weren’t sweating earlier, they most definitely are now. He wasn’t expecting to smoke this soon, and most definitely wasn’t expecting to smoke with the still very shirtless and somewhat intimidating man sitting next to him. But he only worries at his bottom lip for a moment before thinking _what the hell_ and taking the lighter.

Another moment goes by before he realizes he’s not sure what to do. Fundamentally, he knows he’s supposed to light up one of its edges, but he doesn’t really know which one.

He’s glad he doesn’t have to ask for help, though, because Yixing seems to notice his struggle and takes both objects back, placing the joint in between his lips and lighting the other tip up while sucking. He hollows his cheeks a little while doing so, and the thing seems to flash a pretty tone of bright red.

The only reason why Junmyeon is still watching him intently is so that he can repeat his moves when his own turn comes, he’s not trying to be a creep or anything. Even if Yixing’s jawline does look particularly intriguing while framing a pair of hollowed cheeks.

Then, the man puts the yellow lighter down and uses his now free hand to hold Junmyeon’s face softly. The latter gasps quietly, surprised by the gentle touch, but then notices the blunt being brought close to his own lips, and opens up and then shuts them back around the wrinkly paper.

He tries mimicking what Yixing did a few minutes prior, inhaling through his mouth and feeling the warm air fill his lungs. He tries hard holding it in, but his throat itches terribly, forcing a strangled cough out of him, followed by several others that create a thick smoky cloud around them.

“Woah, there, man!” A soothing hand finds the small of Junmyeon’s back, rubbing it in small circles until he can breathe again. It helps, in a way. “Alright, my bad. I should’ve warned you not to inhale so much at once. You’re supposed to get used to it first.”

Yixing brings the blunt close to his own mouth again, but before taking a puff, he asks “can I try something that might help?” and, honestly, the older boy has no idea what it may be, but nods anyway because pretty much anything should be better than feeling like there’s a living animal scratching at the inside of your throat.

So the smooth hand finds its way back onto one side of Junmyeon’s face and, if he leans a bit into the touch, neither of them mentions it. Yixing takes a long puff and then leans in and, yeah, of course the other finds it odd, but his first instinct is to let his own eyes flutter shut prettily and wait for what’s to come.

The hand that’s now on his chin pulls a little, making him open his mouth and he complies obediently. A nose bumps against his own and, for a moment, Junmyeon could bet all of his parents’ small fortune that Yixing was about to kiss him — and, strangely enough, he was about to let him — but right before their lips can meet, the latter blows the smoke right through the former’s ones.

This time, he manages to hold it in for quite a few seconds before exhaling again. The boy feels a little groggy already, but he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the marijuana.

“Better?” Yixing asks and the other just stares dumbly for a moment before nodding profusely. “You probably won’t feel anything ‘till the second or third hit, though. Are you really okay with this? You can tell me to stop at any time, don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, no, it’s- it’s great, really. A lot better than that first hit I took by myself.”

“Alright. Ready for more?”

Junmyeon just barely finished nodding before the younger boy takes another puff, bringing him closer by the side of his neck now. The former swallows dryly before opening up again, placing one of his hands on the bed behind himself for support and the other on the nearest firm biceps it can find, simply because he’s not sure what to do with it.

Yixing doesn’t even pull back more than a few inches this time, turning his face to the side to take a drag and then leaning in again, lips touching briefly, hand on Junmyeon’s neck sliding up until it cups his tender cheek once more. The featherlight touch leaves a tingly trail behind and the latter can vaguely guess that the weed is finally kicking in.

He doesn’t really hold in for that long, exhaling heavily as his mind slowly gets as cloudy as the small room. Everything feels a little hazy and numb, but at the same time Junmyeon feels way more aware of his surroundings and most of it consists of nothing, but Yixing.

He’s also very conscious of every single bit of his own skin that’s in contact with the other’s hot one. His fingers slide up the chinese boy’s bare arm, gripping tightly around a surprisingly strong shoulder.

When Yixing asks “do you want more?” with his face only a few inches away from the older boy’s, the latter is sure he can feel it against his own lips more than actually hear it.

Rationally, somewhere in the back of his mind, Junmyeon knows the other means more hits, but, although he has no clue what his own answer is about, it most definitely isn’t about hits.

_“Please.”_

His hand that was still on the bed joins the other on the man’s bare shoulders, feeling out for every single bump of muscle . That seems to get his message across — even if still a little unclear to himself — because Yixing pulls back just enough so that he can drop the joint on an ashtray that sits on the nightstand by the bed, and then his hands find their way onto the older boy’s hips.

Then, Junmyeon’s eyes flutter back shut, being able to focus on the exact moment the first smoke-free hot breath hits his own lips as the other draws near, and he waits patiently. He longs for whatever Yixing is willing to give him, clueless as to why he trusts this almost stranger so blindly, but not actually caring that much at this very moment.

It’s just a brush of lips at first. Their noses bump gently a few times as the chinese boy tests the waters, dragging his own mouth from side to side. Junmyeon can make out every single irregularity and crease on them, mapping out their texture as they fit against his own.

It’s too much but not nearly enough. The older boy, who’s usually well composed and whose tailored blazers are always impeccably steamed and pressed, is being slowly — but surely — reduced to a disheveled mess.

Yixing’s tongue comes out to lap at his bottom lip gently and Junmyeon feels a desperate noise bubbling up out of the back of his throat. He _wants_ something pretty badly. _Anything_.

And then the other is giving him just that. They collide with a little bit of force, but when Yixing starts licking into his mouth, it feels anything, but forceful. It’s lazy, patient, suspiciously akin to teasing.

His movements are precise and seem carefully thought out, but at the same time they’re pretty bold. It doesn’t demand anything, but Junmyeon offers something in return anyway. _Everything_ , really. He succumbs under the other’s touch as it untucks his shirt and finds the hot skin under it, running over the expanse of his milky torso with expert fingertips like a brush would a blank canvas.

Not a second later, said hands make their way back, moving on to tugging at the shimmery suit jacket carelessly. Surprisingly, Junmyeon helps, shimmying out of the thick piece of clothing and not once breaking the kiss.

He’s not sure whether it’s the fact that he’s making out with a man he just met on his bed, or that he’s under the influence of marijuana — since they’re both firsts to him — but he’s never given himself over completely like this while kissing anyone before. So much that he doesn’t care when his Marc Jacobs blazer is dropped to the floor, turning into a wrinkly puddle.

Or maybe it’s because it’s fucking hot and he’s wearing too many layers, desperate to get rid of at least some of them.

He also barely notices the other gradually leaning in more and more until his own back hits a soft surface — the bed. Yixing buries a strong hand in his carefully styled hair, not quite tugging, but gripping tightly enough to pull a bit.

Junmyeon frees his mouth to gasp a little and the other takes the opportunity to travel down a bit. The former throws his head back, baring his neck as an invitation the latter gladly takes, sucking the tender skin in between his teeth a few times before running his tongue over the marks and, then, lavishing both his jawline and collarbones with wet kisses.

Nothing ever managed to steal the chinese boy’s breath quite like the view that’s in front of — under — him when he pulls back a little to take a look. The moment he first saw the boy earlier today, he looked exactly like a doll in his branded clothes and a pomade-slick quiff to match.

Now, lying on _his_ bed and looking up at _him_ with big expectant eyes, he looks nothing, but human — although the way his messy hair creates a halo around his head as it sits etherealy on the mattress can be misleading. Still, some of it is glued to his forehead with sweat, his eyes look glossy, lips parted as he breathes heavily, first button on his now wrinkly shirt undone, revealing the most delicate collarbones and a slightly prominent chest that glows under the yellow fairy lights.

“Pretty.” Yixing comments lowly against the other’s mouth and the latter can feel the former’s chest vibrate where it meets his own.

Junmyeon’s been called pretty many times before, but never in an intimate context like this. It sends shivers down his spine, making him arch his back a little.

He feels naked in more ways than just one, even though he only took off his jacket so far. The boy really isn’t used to being at anyone’s mercy like this, reacting carelessly to even the smallest of touches, probably making ugly sex faces and letting out embarrassing noises, but it’s not necessarily bad. Or at all.

 _It was probably the weed_ , is what he’ll most likely tell himself on the next day as he covers the nasty marks spread all over his neck with concealer.

But right now, with Yixing staring him down with overwhelming adoration in his droopy eyes, he knows it’s more than just that. Junmyeon feels pinned to the place even though the other isn’t holding him down. Actually, he doesn’t even have his hands on him at the moment, the only thing still connecting them being the older boy’s legs wrapped around his waist.

“It’s fucking hot,” is what Junmyeon replies disconnectedly, a little too flustered to come up with anything else. His voice comes out hoarse, what with his throat feeling as dry as his mouth does.

“Yeah... I’m gonna get us some cold beer. Can you crack the window open? Letting the weed smell out might help too.”

The chinese boy gets up and, although the other simply hums in agreement, he starts missing the shared body heat as soon as it’s gone. Not only that, but he wonders if he’ll ever get another moment like the one they just shared or if they’ll just go back to acting like bros for the rest of the night. Or worse, like the strangers they truly are to each other.

The boy resigns, though, reluctantly getting up to his knees on the bed to reach for the windows and open them a bit. It’s chilly outside and the way the wind brushes gently against his hot cheeks sort of helps sobering him up.

The sun is starting to rise, tinting the sky with a warm orange that doesn’t really seem to match the cold weather. It’s really pretty, though.

 _Pretty_.

That word sounds different to Junmyeon now — in a good way. It feels as if it holds a secret only him and the boy who called him that very word have access to. He knows for a fact he’ll have to hold back a smile every time he hears that word now. Or maybe it’s just the weed’s aftertaste talking.

So he’s right back to where he was when he first got in this room, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed and trying to adjust his clothes as best as he can.

Yixing comes back with two beers, a bag of Doritos and a shirt on. He hands him the bottle that’s still full and sips on the other one, sitting right next to Junmyeon.

“You can crash here, if you want. It’s, like, past 6am.” The chinese boy offers as he opens the bag. Only now does the other realize he’s actually hungry as fuck.

“Shit, really? Yeah, thanks. I can sleep on the couch or something.”

“Nah, there’s enough room for both of us. And I can lend you a shirt, but I don’t really have pijama bottoms, sorry.” He speaks with a mouth full of Doritos and, oddly, it’s sort of endearing.

“It’s fine. Thanks, for real.”

Then, Junmyeon seems to completely forget everything he knows about good manners and all but attacks the bag just like the other was doing. For the next few minutes, they do nothing but munch on the crunchy snack and down the beer like two both starved and thirsty men.

Once they’re done, Yixing drags him to the bathroom, hands him some mouthwash and brushes his own teeth. After that, the former lends him a t-shirt, as promised — a super cute, oversized one that has a silly sheep doodle on it — and it feels weirdly domestic.

And then they’re both back on the single bed, now only in their underwear and in dorky sleeping shirts. Junmyeon has about 10 seconds to feel awkward about it, stiff back turned to the other, until an arm is thrown lazily around his waist and a warm body is flush against his own from behind. It feels extremely comforting.

He’s almost slipping into unconsciousness when the other says quietly, “I’m not actually charging you 30 for each roll”, and Junmyeon isn’t sure if either of them will remember this very moment in the morning since they’re both pretty drowsy, but that doesn’t stop him from falling asleep with a small smile on his lips.

“I know.”

*


End file.
